


Scenes from The Chaos Apartment

by The Master of the Deck (officiumdefunctorum)



Series: Modern Westlands AU [4]
Category: Wheel of Time - Robert Jordan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Because of course he does, Crack, Crossdressing, Galad is a Model, Gen, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Mat Does Not Care About Your Gender Norms, Mat and Nynaeve are Roommates, Mat plays professional poker, Pansexual Mat Cauthon, Protective Nynaeve, Roommates, The Chaos Apartment, Unbeta'd, We Die Like Men, mostly crack anyway
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:53:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23324263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/officiumdefunctorum/pseuds/The%20Master%20of%20the%20Deck
Summary: Mat and Nynaeve are roommates. These are their stories.
Relationships: Mat Cauthon & Galad Damodred, Nynaeve al'Meara/Lan Mandragoran
Series: Modern Westlands AU [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1677376
Comments: 17
Kudos: 28





	Scenes from The Chaos Apartment

**Author's Note:**

> The more this idea sits with me, the more in love with it I am.
> 
> (Born as part of the ongoing WoT Modern AU Fusion trashchild happening on the WoT Trash discord. Invite at the end!)

When Nynaeve walked into her apartment at the end of a long shift at the hospital, she wished she could have said that she was surprised by what she saw when she rounded the wall separating the foyer and living room.

“Mat,” said Nynaeve, really, _really_ wishing she was surprised.

“Yes, Nynaeve?” Asked what she supposed must be her friend of twenty-two years, and current roommate.

“What are you _wearing?_ ”

“Oh, this?” Asked Mat, sounding genuinely surprised as he bobbed the foot he had crossed over his knee. The foot in what had to be at least a four inch heel. “I’m breaking in my next tourney outfit.”

“Are those... garters?” She asked, closing her eyes as she let her work duffel fall to the floor.

“Yep,” he said, popping the _‘p’_ as he started tapping rapidly on his phone.

“I am going to regret asking this, so much,” Nynaeve began, “But, for the love of the Light, Mat, why are you dressed like a gothy hentai gay porn sub?”

Mat looked up at Nynaeve and grinned. “Nynaeve, I didn’t know you knew all those words! I’m proud of you. Or proud of Lan. It’s probably his good influence.”

Long inured to Mat’s utterly invasive brand of friendship, Nynaeve just sat down on the couch next to him, pushing his bright green petticoat out of the way. “You had better be wearing Spanx underneath that, because I do not want to deal with the knowledge that your naked balls have been on our couch again.”

“That was _one time_ —”

“Two times.”

 _“Two times,”_ Mat corrected without changing his tone. “And one time I was having a panic attack, and the other I was high on those Aiel mushrooms Egwene sent me. You can’t blame me for that.”

“First of all, she sent those mushrooms to _me_ —for _research_ —not you, and second of all, I absolutely blame you for both of those things,” Nynaeve paused. “Okay, I’ll forgive the panic attack.”

“Generous of you,” drawled Mat, but there was a real smile in his eyes when Nynaeve reached over to smack him on the back of the head. “And yes, I’m wearing Spanx.”

“The Light be praised for small mercies,” Nynaeve sighed, and slumped down on the couch, wriggling out of her scrub top and tossing it in the direction of her bag.

Without saying anything, Mat rose off of the couch and swayed into the kitchen.

Nynaeve idly followed the walk, and was reluctantly impressed with how well he always pulled it off. The puffy skirt and off the shoulder top of the dress fit well on his slender frame, and—not that Nynaeve would ever admit it—but he looked more comfortable in heels than she did.

After a minute of clanking and cluttering noises from the kitchen, Mat returned bearing two generously filled glasses of dark red wine in one hand, and a bottle in the other.

“I _love_ you,” said Nynaeve, fervently, as she took the glass and took a large sip.

“I’m telling Lan,” said Mat, and clinked his glass against hers before sitting down. He immediately whipped out his phone and began tapping at it.

“Just don’t offer him another threesome,” mumbled Nynaeve, dragging her braid over her shoulder and beginning to comb it out with the fingers of her free hand.

Mat’s fingers froze on the screen. “...how dare you impugn my honor in such a way,” he said with a shifty look.

“While you’re at it, remind him that we’re carpooling to Emond’s Field tomorrow,” she said, grabbing the remote and pulling up YouTube on their Smart TV.

“Yes ma’am,” said Mat, stretching his long legs out in front of him and crossing his bright green booties at the heel. Fuck. They were actually really cute.

Nynaeve drank more wine.

“How the hell do you walk in those without breaking all the bones in your legs?” Nynaeve asked.

“Hm?” Asked Mat, pulling his eyes away from his phone, a small grin on his face.

Nynaeve narrowed her gaze. “You weren’t texting Lan at all, were you,” she accused. “Who is it?”

Mat clutched his phone to his chest. “Don’t worry about it,” said Mat, giving her the side-eye.

While maybe it wasn’t the most attractive of her personality traits, Nynaeve would absolutely own that she was an overprotective friend. With Mat, her mama lioness tendencies were especially honed, because she had been the one to pick up the broken pieces of the vibrant, carefree boy he had been when he’d showed up on her doorstep black and blue with bruises.

“Mat,” she said, her voice this side of dangerous. “ _Tell_ me you are not on Tinder again,” she said, surreptitiously setting down the wine glass and turning toward Mat.

“I’m not on Tinder,” he said, indignant, and damn him, she could never tell when he was lying.

“Then who is it!” She said, exasperated. Mat’s phone buzzed, and when he instinctually lifted it away from his chest to look down at the screen, Nynaeve snatched it.

“Hey!” squawked Mat, reaching after the phone, but Nynaeve already had it.

“So, who is—oh my. _Wow,_ ” she said, staring at the phone and tilting her head, eyes wide.

Mat grumbled, letting her have the phone now that the principle of the thing was moot.

“They’re just some of his modeling proofs,” Mat said, and bloody ashes but he was _actually blushing_. “He wanted my opinion.”

“Galad Damodred wants your opinion,” she said, eyes wide as she swiped through the pictures Galad had sent him. “On his proofs for _Out_ magazine?” She practically shouted the last words, incredulous.

Mat leaned over Nynaeve’s shoulder as they both admired the display of fashionable clothing—and, in a few cases, its notable _absence_.

“Light, he’s so fucking beautiful,” Mat sighed, forlornly.

“What are you sighing about,” Nynaeve demanded, turning to look at Mat with incredulity. “He’s basically sending you pictures of his abs! You cannot tell me that does not mean he’s interested.”

Mat waved a hand. “You’ve met the man. He’s just... _nice_. And shameless.”

Nynaeve stared at Mat, who was swirling his wine dejectedly.

“You,” she began. “Are a fucking woolheaded moron.”

“This is why we get along so well,” sighed Mat, leaning over and resting his head on her shoulder. “Your insight and honesty.”

“Just ask him out,” Nynaeve grumbled in disgust, holding up a picture of Galad posed in nothing but a pair of _very_ low slung jeans. With the fly open. “Look, this one doesn’t even look like it’s from the photo shoot. His hair is different.”

Mat looked over at the picture, but still shook his head. “Neve, you were there when we met. I not only looked like a hot mess, but I _was_ a hot mess. It was the week after Rand got back and I think I may have been wearing slippers and like, a hoodie without a shirt under it at the time.”

“When a man sends you artful, mostly-naked pictures of himself, Mat, he’s not even being _subtle_ ,” Nynaeve insisted.

“He was being _kind_ when he asked for my number,” said Mat, stubbornly. “Nothing more. We’re—friendly.”

“Friendly with your dicks,” Nynaeve muttered, turning Mat’s phone sideways to enlarge a picture of Galad in a three-piece floral suit. “Light, he even looks good in bad outfits. I hate him so much.”

Picking up her wine, Nynaeve drained it and then waggled it at Mat. “Go get me more wine, maid.”

Mat slowly turned his head to give her one baleful eye. “I am not dressed as a _maid_.”

“You have on a frilly petticoat, a tiny dress, and you have a ridiculous little hat pinned to your hair. All you need is a feather duster,” she teased.

Groaning, Mat got up and walked to where he’d left the wine bottle on the other side of the wide coffee table.

“Hey, Mat,” Nynaeve said, and Mat turned to look over his shoulder.

Nynaeve snapped a picture of him, and then vaulted over the back of the couch.

“Don’t you fucking _dare_ , Nynaeve al’Meara!” Mat called after her, but Nynaeve wasn’t the one in heels. She’d barricaded herself in the bathroom before Mat had even rounded the couch, and she couldn’t help but giggle as Mat banged on the door.

After a minute, when Mat’s phone pinged in response, she opened the door with what she considered to be a well-earned smug expression.

Mat, towering over her in his four inch heels, held out his hand. She placed his phone in it and watched with immense pleasure as Mat scrutinized the screen and then gaped at it.

“Blood and fucking ashes you _didn’t,_ ” he whispered, swiping through the phone and then covering his mouth with his hand, eyes widening. “You _bitch_ , you did!”

“I thought it was both coy and to the point,” she said, smugly.

“You texted him a picture of me in the outfit I wear to rile up the stuffy Amadecian men who still think women should wear bonnets and said _‘do u want to get a drink tomorrow?’_ ” Mat deadpanned. “That’s the opposite of coy, Nynaeve.”

“Well, you look hot in the picture, at least,” she shrugged, and eeled her way past him to get more wine. “Besides, he said yes, didn’t he?”

“That is so not the p—” Mat stopped as his phone began to ring. “Bloody ashes _he’s calling me_ ,” Mat whispered, like Galad might hear through the phone if he spoke too loud.

“Hey Alexa,” Nynaeve called out from the couch. “Answer Mat’s phone.”

“You _goat kissing lady of the night_ , I will use all of your shampoo!” Mat yelled, before disconnecting the app and answering his phone. “Hi! Sorry about that. My roommate is the devil.”

Laughing near hysterically as Mat fled to his bedroom, Nynaeve eventually looked at her own phone and the text message she’d just received.

**Author's Note:**

> Text transcript of Lan and Nynaeve's text exchange at the end:
> 
> Lan: Matrim propositioned me. Again.  
> Nynaeve: And?  
> Lan: I sent him a picture of my gun.  
> Nynaeve: That will definitely only encourage him.  
> Lan: He is a very odd man.  
> Nynaeve: You have no idea.
> 
> \---
> 
> Want to get in on the fun? Join the [Wheel of Time Trash discord](https://discord.gg/XUvCR2z) for shipping, fic, prompts, headcanons, smut, kinks, and general flailing about this stupid series that we all love for some reason.


End file.
